Sick and Wrong
by kkeya
Summary: A collection of not-quite-drabbles, written for a prompt table consisting of anything that looked interesting at the time.
1. Chapter 1

1. **Perfect**. (Cassie)

After the war, this is what I will cherish:

Six kids, out for a day at the beach. Two of the kids are only human sometimes, and four of the kids are only human most of the time, but today, they're all human. The sun is shining, there's a clean, cool breeze, and they've managed to find a spot that isn't too crowded.

Some of us play Frisbee. Some of us go swimming. We sit on the warm sand and eat, and laugh, and build a sandcastle.

We are not normal. We will never be normal again. But today is for normal things.

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2. **Yes, I'm aware I made a mistake**. (Rachel)

I don't remember what I thought. Maybe I thought they were human. Maybe I thought I could take them. Maybe I didn't think anything at all.

I remember Marco pulling me towards the elevator. I remember screaming at him, and I remember trying to get away. I don't know what would have happened if... but maybe I _could_ have taken them.

_No. Don't be stupid,_ I thought. _You'd be dead_.

And so would Marco. Because if I had managed to get away, go back, fight, I knew he would have gone back for me. It would have been a stupid thing to do, but that's Marco. When everything's calm, when we're not in danger - well, not in any more danger than usual, anyway - he's ruthless. He's good at it. But in battle, well, it's different. He does the stupid thing. He saves my life.

Jake was going to leave us both to die. It was the smart thing. It's why he's our leader.

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3. **Good night**. (Rachel)

_I miss my dad._

_I could try to find him. I could acquire a duck, or a goose. I could fly across the country. I could do it right now._

_Someone would see me. Someone would stop me._

_Let them try._

Every night, as I lay awake in our hut, I made plans I knew would never be acted out. Imagined finding his house, swooping through his window, demorphing right in front of him. In these fantasies I never need back up, because he's not a Controller, and going off on my own is never stupid, never ends with my capture or my death. Somehow, he is safe, and his house is secure, and he's alone. We sit at his kitchen table - he has a kitchen table - and I tell him everything. And he believes me. And he is proud.

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4. **Memories**. (Jake)

"Hey," he said. He rarely said anything else. He sat down at the foot of the grave. It was too dark to see the engraving on the headstone, but he knew it by heart.

Sometimes he traced the words with his fingertips. Sometimes he just sat. Sometimes he left a stone on the grave, but sometimes he didn't, because most of them were from him anyway, and sometimes he felt like it was just more weight for her to carry instead of being what it was supposed to be.

Sometimes he looked up at the sky until it was too dark for him to see. Tonight he stared at the ground.

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5. **Friendship**. (Marco)

After you, the most paranoid security freak ever to have lived, blow your cover, _twice_, endangering the lives of both your family and your friends, and thus the last great hope for the continued freedom and survival of both humanity and Earth itself, resulting in the need for you to fake your own death and go live amongst the space goblins, rendering you unable to go to school or be seen in public at all, let alone have access to any sort of media whatsoever, well... it's nice to know that, should anything like that happen, _hypothetically_, you'll still have your friends. Friends who'll let you crash at their place in the middle of the woods. Friends who have the internet. And a television.


	2. Chapter 2

6. **Fears**. (Rachel)

I wasn't afraid.

I'm never afraid. Okay, that isn't true. I'm afraid a lot of the time. Sometimes I'm so afraid that I can barely even think because there's a voice in my head, screaming and yammering and begging anything that will listen to please, _please_ get me out of this, somehow, please, I'll do anything.

I didn't stall for time. I didn't sit back, calmly weigh the options, analyze the reasons, second guess myself out of it. Or into it, for that matter. But I wasn't afraid, either.

I could have said no. I didn't. I knew what the consequences would be, for both of us. I said what I could to try and save him from the worst of it. I said yes.

He'd used me. He'd used me because he had to. There was no other option.

I was the weapon.

Sometimes, at night, in bed, waiting for the nightmares to come, I knew it'd come to this. I thought I'd be angry. I thought I'd scream in his face, loud enough for half the world to hear and come running, and then I'd scream at them, too. I'd thought I'd say anything, do anything, beg him not to do this. I thought I'd want him to feel bad. Worse than bad. I thought I'd want him to... I don't know. Apologize. Take it back. Say he was wrong. Come up with another way, another plan.

I wasn't angry.

I wasn't afraid, either.

Jake did what had to be done. He did the hard thing. So would I.

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7. **Alone**. (Cassie)

It's not so bad. They've been gone for a long time. I miss them, I always miss them. But they're with me still, in everything I do.

Tomorrow I will be thirty-three. I am far, far too young to have fought in a war that ended almost twenty years ago.

The world is different. We are at peace. There is a tiny patch of Earth that is hollow, and other patches that will never even exist.

But we were here. We existed, once.

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8. **Fading**. (Marco)

Jake sighed. It was a pretty melodramatic sigh, but it was clear he meant it. "This is stupid."

"You're only saying that because I'm winning," I said.

He gave me a look. "It's Sonic, Marco," he said. Which was true. We'd dug out the ol' Sega for some mindless two-player platforming. "Mindless" being the key word in that sentence. I'd had enough thinking for a lifetime, thanks.

"I'm still winning," I grinned, shoving his arm. He shrugged. "Come on, Big Jake." Okay, that sounded way too much like pleading.

He didn't say anything. Just stared at the controller in his hands. After a while he mumbled some ridiculously implausible excuse and headed home.

_Well, at least he didn't come up with something believable,_ I thought. He was an expert liar. We all were, we had to be. Maybe it meant there was still enough of him in there. Maybe he was still salvageable. Or maybe it just meant that he couldn't be bothered with anything anymore.

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9. **Apology**. (Rachel)

"Cassie..." I said. It was a good start. I just had no idea where to go with it. Cassie stood by the cages, holding a shovel. She'd been mucking out the stalls. "I'm glad you're okay," I finished, shrugging. I didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah. Me, too," she smiled. "I'm almost done here. We can go shopping after, if you want."

I knew it was all the apology I was ever going to get. And really, it was all the apology I needed. She was my best friend. And I didn't really want to talk about it, anyway.

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10. **Honor**. (Jake)

I should have stayed behind with Ax. Not Rachel. It should have been me. She was right, she could handle it. But she shouldn't have to. I was the leader. I was her cousin, her friend. I should have said no. I should have made everyone stay for the entire two hours. It had been our decision, all of us in it together. We all should have seen it through to the end.

Should, should, should.

Rachel was right. And I had made the right call, I knew that. Better to spare as many of the others from that as possible. Ax and Rachel, they were strong. They could handle it. They could do what had to be done.

Me? I wasn't feeling especially strong right then. Or especially good.


	3. Chapter 3

11. **Learn**. (Rachel)

I used to be normal. I had a normal life, a normal family. I was a good student. I loved gymnastics and shopping. I had a cork board on my wall covered in wise quotes. I had friends. Friends who probably wouldn't die for me, and who I probably wouldn't die for, and that was okay, because we'd never have to find out.

Now things are different. I know true, bone-deep terror. I know it like an old friend. Now the only time I feel truly, electrically _alive_ is when I'm within an inch of death. And I know my friends would die for me. They've shown they would, too many times to count. And I would die for them. No hesitation, no second thoughts. I just would.

If I have to die, that's how I want to do it. For them.

If I have to live... sometimes it seems like that would be the hardest, the worst thing. I don't know how to be normal anymore. The girl I used to be is more than an alien to the me I am now. I don't know how to go back to that. I don't even know if it's possible.

But I want to try.

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12. **Payback**. (Rachel)

Picture a quiet, sensitive bearer of bad news. Someone who knows all the right words, who can pat you on the arm or give you a hug or whatever. Someone who could make you feel better. You'd probably picture someone like Cassie, not me. Quiet and sensitive isn't really my thing. Bad news, maybe. Yeah, bad news is pretty much my job description.

Anyway, I was the one who saw it, so I was the one who had to say it. "Hey, Marco. I have some bad news. Your mom's probably not dead. Again. Sorry, man. Probably should have let me kill her when we had the chance."

Yeah, this was going to go well.

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13. **Hurt**. (Tobias)

She would laugh, delighted, and she would have blue eyes, and she would say, "You named a ship after me?"

And I would nod, and smile, because I would have a mouth, a human mouth. I'd say, "You would have loved it."

She would have blonde hair, and long, thin fingers, and she would say, "I do. I do love it." And she would be alive.

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14. **Lost**. (Cassie)

Everything I had ever owned was gone. Books, photographs, clothes, mementos. The stuffed animals that I could never get up the courage to throw away. The notes and letters and birthday cards that I kept in shoe boxes under my bed. My grandmother's crockery, passed down to my mother. One day it would have been mine. My home, everything I had ever known, vaporized by the Yeerks.

Little things. Not important, not in the grand scheme of things. Not when people were dying. But important to me.

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15. **Pain**. (Cassie)

Outside, we are whole. We are perfect. Every severed limb, every cut, every bruise, every sleepless night lives on, on the inside. But if you saw us walking down the street, you'd never know it.

I used to think it was a good thing. I don't, now. Not anymore.

It was worth it, yes. Everything we did was worth it in the end. All the mistakes, all the destruction, all the lives that we cut short, all of it brought us closer to this. To victory.

We did the right thing. Sometimes we did the wrong thing. But they gave us no choice.

We are the victims. We are the ones who have to live with what we have suffered. We are the ones who have to live with what we have done.


	4. Chapter 4

16. **Wounded**. (Marco)

"Hey, remember the thing with the Veleek?" I said. "When we had to jump out of the Blade Ship, demorph, and remorph before we hit the ground?"

Ax grimaced. "Yes, I remember." He was in human morph. Paper plates and plastic containers littered the table. We'd ordered in.

"Remember the first time we took you to the movies and you went nuts on chocolate?" He nodded. "Or that time we had to hide in a tank of lobsters and almost got cooked?"

Ax said, "Yes, I do."

I rolled my eyes. "Do I have to do everything around here? What, do Andalites not do reminiscing?"

"I'm sorry," he said, inspecting a paper plate for traces of leftover icing. "I was thinking about Rachel."

"Yeah," I sighed, suddenly deflated. "I was _trying _to avoid that."

Neither of us said anything for a while.

"Come on," I stood up. "Let's get some wings."

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17. **Agony**. (Tobias)

I tend to avoid my old neighborhood. Stupid, right? I mean, it's not like anyone would recognize me, and I'm not scared, exactly. I just don't want to go back there.

Sometimes, back when I first became a _nothlit_, I used to wish I could just fly through my old bedroom window and sleep in a bed, like a human, surrounded by human things.

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18. **Bath**. (Rachel)

We flew to the cove. It started to rain just as I finished demorphing. Tobias grumbled, and I laughed, and we sat on the rocks. The sun was behind the storm clouds, but the rocks were warm. There was lightning and thunder, and my hair kept sticking to my cheeks. I said, "Aren't you glad we're not flying in this?" He nodded and held my hand in both of his.

Tobias was never especially talkative, but it's different now. Before, it was like he was just quiet because there wasn't anything that needed to be said. Now, I guess he just can't. Not for the moment, anyway.

I'm not exactly the kind, understanding, sentimental type. If it was anything else, I'd probably be shaking him by the shoulders and shouting, "Snap out of it!" And I'm not saying I'm not tempted sometimes, that I don't get frustrated, that it doesn't scare me. But this was too big.

It's okay. I'm loud enough for the both of us. One day, he'll be... not normal, none of us will probably ever be normal, but one day he'll be better. I can wait. It's okay.

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19. **Surrender**. (Jake)

Sometimes I sleep a lot. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I'm afraid to. I don't know. It comes and goes in waves.

My parents are good. My parents are good, strong people. I can barely look at them. I know what they've gone through. My fault. All my fault.

I killed their son. Me. I ordered his death.

I killed him. I killed Rachel. I killed James. I killed seventeen thousand Yeerks. At least in space they died almost instantly. When I was a kid I boiled them alive.

Had to be done.

My memory is so hazy these days.

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20. **Courage**. (Marco)

Rachel is dead. I saw it happen, I knew it was real. It just hadn't sunk in yet. It'd take a while. I knew that from experience.

Just minutes after landing, we were surrounded by press. Cameras flashing, microphones, reporters shouting in our faces. And you know what my first thought was? My first thought was, _Man, Rachel's going to love this_.

Now _that's_ funny.


	5. Chapter 5

21. **Future Perfect**. (Rachel)

When all this was over, the first thing she'd do, the very first thing, would be to track down Tobias's deadbeat aunt and uncle and give them each a piece of her mind. Or at least stomp their houses flat, which was still far more mercy than they deserved.

There had never been a good time, before. It was too risky. But after the war? After the war they'd be safe.

Part of her was worried about that. She was waiting for peace just so that she could commit more violence. Where was the sense in that? She pushed the thought away.

She wasn't sure whether she should tell Tobias yet. Then again, if he objected - and she couldn't imagine why he would, but it was better to be prepared - she could always say it was payback for driving a tank through Melissa's house. Call it a two-for-one deal.

"So," Rachel said, "What are you going to do about your aunt and uncle? You know," she waved a hand vaguely. "After?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess I thought I'd... I don't know. I mean, it's not like I have a burning desire to ever see them again. I guess I thought I'd just, you know, leave them alone or whatever." He watched her for a moment before adding, "You have something in mind."

Well, so much for subtle. Maybe facial expressions weren't all they were cracked up to be. "I've thought about it, yeah," she admitted.

"Rachel..."

"No, listen, Tobias. They were jerks. They treated you like crap your entire life! They deserve to suffer some property damage, at the very least."

He shook his head, but didn't say anything. Rachel was pretty sure one of them would bring it up again sooner or later; she felt, vaguely, that she needed his permission, at least. But she didn't really want to press it right now, either, so she let it drop.

After a while, Tobias laughed softly. "You'd be great in the construction industry."

She grinned. "I've built up a pretty impressive resume over the years."

"Warehouses, office buildings, cars, the occasional spaceship," he joked.

"Well, that's settled," she said dryly. "I know what I'm doing for the rest of my life."

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22. **You're kidding**. (Rachel)

"How about this?" Cassie said, holding up a shirt that looked like it had been mauled by wolves.

"How about you let _me_ pick?" I said, rolling my eyes.

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23. **When**? (Marco)

Yeah, it's a cliché: the waiting is the worst part. Sometimes we go weeks without a mission, but we never get a chance to relax, because every day we wake up thinking, _This might be the day_. It gets to a point where it feels like the suspense is literally killing me. Everything makes me flinch. If I see one of the others my first instinct is to scream and run away.

No, wait. Having to morph bugs, _that's_ the worst part. Imagine watching a proboscis grow out of your best friends' face. Imagine watching human-sized bug legs sprout from their chest. Imagine knowing that the exact same thing is happening to you. It is body horror in the extreme.

Then again, flying as a fly? I guess that's pretty cool.

So I guess the actual fighting part, that's the worst part. I have lost limbs, I have bled to almost to death. I have had to keep my intestines inside my body, not by the usual layer of muscle and skin, but by _holding them in_. Holding them in with my actual, physical hands. I have had to hold my _actual stomach_ closed with one hand while trying to fight off a small army of Dracon beam-wielding, razorblade-covered aliens with my other hand.

Actually, you know, the waiting? The waiting is, quite possibly, the best part.

And that's just depressing.

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24. **I won't let go**. (Tobias)

We couldn't go to a movie together, but we could watch television. I don't think the shows were really important. It was just important that it was done. I'd fly out to her house and sometimes I'd perch on the bed frame, but more often I'd morph to human. Sometimes she'd fly out to Ax's scoop instead. It wasn't perfect, I guess. It was a compromise. It wasn't normal, but it was close enough.

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25. **Where am I**? (Cassie)

Somewhere along the line, I became the person who willingly consigns human beings to a life spent trapped inside their own heads with a parasitic slug who is insane, who will never leave, who will never hunger, who will never die.

I became the person who practically begs the person she cares about more than most things to murder a murderer, because she can't bear to do it herself. I became the person who is horrified when he will not.

I became the person who kills sentient beings. I became the person who kills slaves. Self-defense, yes. Always. And I am defending more than just myself. I never enjoy it, I never delight in it. I am not like Rachel. I always regret.

But there is a hollowness inside me now. A coldness. I used to be filled with joy and with love; compassion and understanding used to come to me so easily.

One day soon there might be nothing left inside me at all. That scares me, so much. I don't want to be that person anymore. I can't. I can't.


	6. Chapter 6

26. **It Depends**. (Marco)

It's pointless and stupid, but every now and then I wonder how Rachel would have reacted to all of this.

The cameras would have loved her. She probably wouldn't have loved them, but she'd enjoy the attention. She'd probably think it was funny. She'd do talk shows and panels, and she'd be signed for endorsements for Ralph Lauren or Gucci or whatever within the week.

Then again, maybe not. Say what you like, but she's got no head for business, our girl Rachel.

Maybe she would have shacked up with Tobias. A girl and her bird. They'd sit at the dinner table every night, her with lasagne, him with a mouse. He'd have his own little perch by the bed and everything.

She'd have laughed at the ridiculous extravagance that was her funeral. And then she'd go around shaking the mourners and telling them to stop being such babies.

She wouldn't have had a funeral in the first place.

She'd know how to get Jake back. The direct approach. There would be no cajoling, no stupid jokes, no pointless attempts at distraction, no buying of cars. She'd walk right up to him, get in his face. "Suck it up, Jake," she'd say, "Get over it already." And somehow, he'd snap out of it, just like that.

Or maybe she'd go even more nuts than she already was. Maybe she'd turn every car park in the entire world into her own personal demolition derby. Maybe she'd morph grizzly and massacre every single person who ever even looked at her wrong. Maybe she'd die anyway, shot down by cops in the name of protecting everyone else. Maybe she'd just collapse into herself, like Jake.

And it's at that point I remember how pointless and stupid it is and think about something else instead.

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27. **That's not true**.

My name is Rachel.

One night, a long time ago, we met a noble prince, my friends and I.

Jake, a knight whose armour always gleamed, even in darkness. He was our leader. Cassie, an enchantress who could talk to any living thing, even trees. Marco, who could bring a smile to even the saddest person in the world. Ax, an apprentice wizard from a distant land, who knew everything there was to know. Tobias, a boy who could fly, and who could see anything, no matter how far away it was. And me. A warrior princess.

The noble prince gave us magical powers, and told us to go out into the world, to fight an enemy who, he said, was evil. The enemy, he told us, would be difficult to find, because the enemy stole people's faces. By using our magical powers, though, we would be able to spot them when no one else could.

It was a grand, fairytale quest. Along the way, we made lots of friends who gave us help. A magical talking dog and his magical talking dog friends. Tiny little people who could help us by shrinking our enemies. Very talkative accordions who always had something useful for us in their stores. Friendly goblins who lived in trees and had amazing weapons. A powerful wizard.

Ordinary animals helped us, too; all the animals of Earth. Tigers, and elephants, and wolves, and birds, and bears. Even monkeys helped us, though they complained at first. Monkeys prefer to live in peace. But once they knew the need was great, they helped us, too.

Sometimes it was difficult, and we would be discouraged. But my friends, along with the new friends we had made, were strong. We encouraged each other and supported each other, and so we never stayed sad for very long. Our enemies were always mean, for no other reason than they liked to be mean. Our families were safe at home and they wrote letters every week telling us they were proud. We fought bravely, and our magical powers kept us from ever getting hurt. At night, any inn we passed would give us a nice hot meal, and a nice warm bed, and we all slept soundly every night.

Once we had assembled our army, we stormed the castle where our enemies lived. There was a great and final battle, and, at last, we won. We found the people's faces and returned them to their owners, and our enemies were very sorry for what they had done.

After the final battle, we all went home, and we ate the biggest bowl of oatmeal you've ever seen. There was a victory celebration that lasted for three years, with lots of food and lots of dancing. Jake the knight and Cassie the enchantress got married, and no one was ever sad again. We all lived happily ever after, forever.


End file.
